


Sweet Like Cinnamon

by Auggusst



Series: The Soldier And The Scientist [13]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cuddling, Emotional, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Kisses, M/M, Past manipulation, Protective Steve Rogers, Supportive Steve Rogers, Talk of past trauma, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Trust, Winter, cuddling for warmth, mention of past rape, no onscreen abuse, tony is an abuse survivor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 17:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20979746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auggusst/pseuds/Auggusst
Summary: Late one night during a snow storm, Tony can't help but thinking of his past, and the bad things that have happened to him. He's afraid of them happening again, and admits as much. Steve assures him nothing like that will ever happen again.





	Sweet Like Cinnamon

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's been a while! I've got something else in the works, but I wanted to explore this idea a little. In my opinion it's pretty clear Tony has suffered some abuses in his past. I wanted to bring it up in a way that wasn't too graphic. Also more Norman Fucking Rockwell album references because that album just screams STony. Tony IS the cinnamon girl.

The words came when Tony was in his arms, head cradled by the soft pillows. It was late, too late, and neither could sleep. Outside of the nest of their blankets there was a pervasive cold—this November was particularly brutal, and neither enjoyed it. Snow pelted the windows of the tower, fell in thick sheets and was carried across the city by harsh winds. The heater was up pretty high, but Tony still found himself shuddering against the cold, tired fingers grasping at Steve’s body under the covers. He hadn’t slept in hours—23, to be exact.

The snowstorm started half a day ago, and something about the turbulence in the air pressure really _really_ made him hurt: headache, joint pain, and general uneasiness. It was times like these that he wondered why he never moved back to Malibu. He hated the cold itself, could never understand why people would go out in it. If it were up to Tony, the entire world would be a pleasant 75, not too hot but certainly not cold, warm enough to swim on a good day or put on a light jacket on a rainy or cloudy day. Winter was not for him, and neither was the temperature.

Steve was similarly displeased by the cold. He hated it. He got cold surprisingly quickly, and it always reminded him of being trapped in the ice. He wondered if his susceptibility was worsened since his little 70 year nap, or if there were just some things even the serum couldn’t ward off. Either way, Steve preferred to spend cold days inside, where it was warm and bright. He remembered too many winters as a kid when their radiator broke or they couldn’t afford to feed it. He remembered frayed blankets and the pairs of gloves his mother knit. He remembered waking up cold and going to sleep cold. It would suffice to say he had enough of it. This storm in particular was bad, and he wasn’t enjoying it.

At least he had Tony here with him, wrapped in his arms. He felt sympathy for his boyfriend. He had a difficult time sleeping regularly, but when he was disturbed by the weather like this, it was clear sleep was nigh impossible.

Steve was drifting in and out himself though, placing gentle kisses at the joint of the brunet’s neck, stroking his hip as Tony shifted below the covers, trying, and failing, to fall asleep, or to get warm, or both. Tony couldn’t decide if his body or his mind was the problem, because the turbulence in the storm was more or less reflected in his brain. There was so much going on, so much that he couldn’t say or straighten out, and it was eating at him, had been for a while.

Tony felt loved, really, truly loved, and had for the past four months, but it was still too good to be true. He felt suspicious sometimes, like this was all some big joke. When he was laying in the dark like this, unable to sleep and too cold to get up and work, there was no louder companion than his negative thoughts, than the memories that spilled over. Steve caressed him so softly, held him firm and close, and made him feel floaty, like the room was spinning, but even after months without incidence, without reason to doubt, Tony feared the worst. He remembered other arms around him, other whispers of “I love you,” and each had turned into a knife in his heart. He wasn’t sure he could take it again, wasn’t ready to, but if it were to happen, he would prefer it sooner rather than later, so he could pick himself up and (drown himself in his sorrows) get over it. He loved Steve, so, so much, more than he thought he could, and it was simultaneously the best and worst thing he’d ever felt.

A gust of wind rattled the windows, and Tony turned, buried his face in the blond’s neck. He struggled to keep his thoughts straight, closed his eyes against the dark of the room for the dark behind his eyelids instead. Steve’s fingers brushed through the hair at the nape of his neck, and slid down to the small of his back, pulling him flush against his body. Tony couldn’t help but let out a small rumble of contentment, despite the turmoil, despite the dull pangs of weather-induced pain, and struggled with his memories a second or two more.

When Steve took a deep breath and pressed a kiss to his forehead, the words tumbled out of Tony’s mouth in a mush, like he’d eaten too much cotton candy.

“You know, if you keep holding me without hurting me, you’ll be the first one who ever did.”

There was a heavy silence for a moment, and Tony realized almost immediately what he had said, and tensed up. He tried to laugh it off. “Sorry, that sounds dramatic. Just ignore it—I’m sleep deprived,” he said, laughing breathlessly. Did he really just say that? He didn’t mean to, but his subconscious decided otherwise.

Steve took it to heart despite the dismissal. How could he not? Tony had never said anything like that before. Steve wasn’t sure if it was his fatigue that lowered his inhibitions, allowed him to be honest, or if it truly was just a silly passing comment as Tony would have him believe it was. Tony wasn’t a liar—sometimes he said things that were outrageous or over the top, but the sentiment at the core of his words was always heartfelt. The words he said now instilled a sense of panic in the soldier. Not only did he have the monumental task of keeping Tony safe, keeping him loved, but now he was learning that the task had gone unfulfilled in the past? To what extent had people hurt Tony?

It suddenly occurred to Steve that he didn’t know that much about Tony’s romantic history, or his history in general. He knew enough, like the mistreatment at the hands of Howard (which in itself had been a blow to learn, and certainly filled Steve with a sense of guilt for ever admiring he man) and the death of his mother, and his butler, the namesake of the tower’s AI, but there were plenty of years that Steve hadn’t heard about. He assumed there was nothing to hear, that everything was fine. It was clear now that he was wrong.

The blond swallowed hard, didn’t return the scientist’s laughter. His hands found Tony’s in the dark, and he held tightly. “Tell me,” Steve implored, voice soft. He had to know what was on the brunet’s mind, what was noteworthy enough to fill his thoughts this late at night.

Tony sighed, aware that he had pried open a can of worms that couldn’t be shut now. He was hesitant to talk about it, any of it, but his mouth seemed to make that choice for him. It was just Steve. He could tell Steve. At least, he hoped he could, without feeling ridiculed. There were some things that not even Rhodey knew, things that Tony kept to himself, locked away down deep. Maybe if Steve understood his past, Tony would know for sure that the blond wouldn’t hurt him.

“I uh…” Tony hesitated. “I haven’t had the best experiences. You know, with relationships. Or just…in general.”

When Steve waited silently for him to continue, the brunet let out another anxious laugh. “Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe it’s not. I don’t really…I don’t know. I don’t know. But uh…” He opened his eyes, stared up at the barely-there ceiling. “The first time… I was kinda young and stupid, you know? I was at MIT a lot earlier than I should have been, a lot earlier than most people are. But y’know, after boarding school, Dear Old Dad didn’t see much difference, so somehow a 14 year old ended up on campus.”

The blond tensed at that. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear whatever would come next. Tony must have felt the way he locked up, because he continued with, “I was 16 when it happened, which isn’t that much better, but…whatever. There…okay, so there was this guy…”

Tony sighed, brushed a hand over his forehead. He was really getting into all of this, wasn’t he? He didn’t particularly like to talk about it, or think about it. When he closed his eyes he could still see it all—all the wasted time, all the stupid little feelings and thoughts and mistakes. It didn’t hurt him so much anymore, but it made him bitter. He should’ve learned a lot sooner, should’ve learned to stay away. It made him feel like an idiot.

“Tiberius Stone. Older, pretty hot, and supremely interesting. He was really smart—I know it was MIT but, he was _smart_, and he knew how to talk and what to say. He had a way of wrapping people around his finger, of making them feel special, getting them to do things. He fooled the best of them, me included. I was at some dumb little party around midterms, too keyed up and looking to get loose. I drank a lot—I always did. He got me a drink, started tossing out compliments, and…well, I ate them up. Most people weren’t exactly jumping to fool around with me—which in hindsight, was a good thing, but… it made me feel bad. I had this whole inferiority thing going on—probably still do—and I liked it. I liked that he paid attention to me.”

He paused, licked his lips, wondering if Steve was already hating him, or pitying him. He wasn’t sure which option was worse. There was nothing worse in his mind than being pitied. It made him feel small, and weak. But the blond only listened intently, didn’t want to interrupt. He was afraid Tony may stop speaking if he did.

At his own pace, Tony continued. “He fucked me after the third date. He was real nice—acted like I was the best thing in the world. He told me he loved me that night. I loved him too. I mean, after years without solid friends, having someone love me seemed amazing, and I thought I was really lucky. But then, he started to change. I mean, he was the same all along, but he stopped pretending. I…I belonged to him, and he made sure I knew it. He was controlling, told me he knew better, and I believed him. He was older, after all. It was fine and dandy; I didn’t really have a problem with it. I let it go on for a long time…until….”

He didn’t like thinking about it. He felt small and stupid all over again, couldn’t believe he was ever dumb enough to get into the situations he got into. If he had been more careful, more thoughtful then maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe he wouldn’t have been in his 40s for his first good relationship. Tony felt shame bubble up, and gripped the blanket. He took another deep breath, and could feel Steve’s hand petting his side reassuringly.

“Uh… one night—so we were at his friend’s house, and there were three of them. I met them before. He liked to show me off, kind of. They started drinking and getting fucked up— it wasn’t really hard for us rich bastards to get our hands on things—and I mean, I was so gone. I could barely remember my own name. But they started joking around, joking and joking and touching and…well, somewhere it stopped being funny…”

Steve was understandably on edge by now. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had an inkling of where this story was going, and he didn’t like it one bit. The arm around Tony tightened protectively, and when he spoke, his voice came out with more of a waver than he wanted. “Did they…did they hurt you?”

He couldn’t see it in the dark, but Tony grinned darkly, bitterness at the memory at the forefront of his tongue. “They didn’t see it that way. Or at least, I didn’t think so. But yeah. They fucked me.” Tony paused for a moment, thinking it over. It’d been a while since he spoke about all of this, but thankfully, the words came easily now. He had faced it all before. It wouldn’t make a difference to admit it one more time. He already hated his past; just speaking about it couldn’t do much more to him now. “No. They raped me. I didn’t want it. At least, I’m pretty sure I didn’t. I… it took a few days to realize, honestly…”

Steve was mortified, not only by the revelation, but the way in which Tony spoke about it. He was so casual, like he was talking about the weather. It was terrible, unfathomable. Steve felt his emotions well up, felt sadness and anger and all kinds of things, that were way too much to be feeling so late at night. His eyes stung a little, but they were angry tears, and he just narrowly managed to draw them back before they fell. If he came out of this conversation without a headache or a heart attack, it would be a miracle. “Jesus Tony…”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s _not_ fine! How are you so calm about all of this? I don’t—I can’t imagine…”

“It was a long time ago. I’m over it,” the brunet replied simply, though that was only partly true. He thought about it sometimes, when everything else was going wrong. It was one of those annoying little buzzes in his ears that would arise, the icing on the cake, and put him over the edge. Now though, he couldn’t even shed a tear, and the scientist couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. Steve’s reaction was more normal than his own, was powerful and profound, and that was good, in a way. It meant the blond cared. It meant that Tony could hope that things would be better this time, that Steve was more trustworthy than the others. Of course he was, right? He was Captain America. If anyone could be trusted, it would be him.

“You shouldn’t have had anything to get over,” Steve admonished, shaking his head in the dark, still trying to come to terms with all of it. “I’m so sorry.”

“If you’re this worked up, maybe I’ll keep the rest to myself,” Tony replied with a laugh, sort of amused by Steve’s reply. He felt a rush of warmth again, glad that Steve cared, even if Tony didn’t think it was that big of a deal. He rubbed his tired eyes. Steve’s silence was telling though, and Tony wondered when he had developed a case of foot-in-mouth disease.

The sheets shifted, and Steve sat up a little. “There’s _more_?”

“Well—the rest is just—it’s more betrayal of trust. I mean sure, I’ve had my ass grabbed or was felt up by some rich prick or other, but— that just comes with the business.” Not that he agreed with it, or enjoyed it. But ever since his youth, Tony had almost been expected to have his boundaries tested, to sit still and take it all in stride for the sake of the company. He knew how awful it sounded, but so many went through the same shit. He wasn’t special. He barely thought about that stuff anymore, which was terrible in itself, but that was that.

“I had this one woman blackmail me into having sex with her,” he offered with a slight shrug, thinking it over.

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah. That wasn’t really fun. Kind of a damper on the evening.”

Steve brushed a hand over his face. This was all absurd. How could people keep doing things like this? How could so much bad happen to Tony? For someone with so much money, he seemed supremely unlucky. What was it about the brunet that made people want to take advantage, made them want to harm instead of help him? Steve would never understand. He loved Tony, so much, despite how irritating he could be, how stubborn, and couldn’t imagine feeling anything else but love around him anymore. He wondered if this sort of stuff, if the people Tony encountered in his past were a modern invention, or if people were just as bad in the 30s. Maybe he had just been too blind to notice it all. He sighed, feeling a little like an idiot. “Tony…”

“It was fine. I mean… obviously it wasn’t, but…” Tony bit his lip. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought this shit up.”

Steve turned to him once more. “Don’t apologize. I’m glad you told me,” he said, gently rubbing the brunet’s shoulder. He was glad, despite the pit in his stomach, and the horrible visions that he had to shake away. He was glad Tony trusted him enough to admit even a small part of this.

“Yeah,” Tony replied. “Not many people know about that stuff. I mean… yeah, I had a lot of one night stands and shit, but some of them were really awful people. But I couldn’t say anything, because I knew it would blow up with the media. It was always easier to just…stay quiet and take it.”

Steve didn’t think it was possible to feel more miserable, but that sentence did it. “You deserve so much better,” he muttered, almost a growl.

In another situation it would’ve been really hot, but now, when Tony was just sleepy, it was comforting. It soothed something in his chest that had been eating at him for a while. It was like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, and he could breathe easier than before. He reached up, brushed a hand lovingly through the blond’s bangs.

“I do have better,” the scientist countered. “I have you,” he said softly, and he meant it. Thus far, Steve was the most wonderful partner he’d ever had, and he hoped he wouldn’t lose him anytime soon. He hoped that their relationship was something good, something long lasting and wonderful, something that would make up for all the bullshit in his past. Tony hoped Steve would be the exception, would be the outlier in his long, shitty history.

He didn’t know it back then, but he would be right in the long run, despite the ups and downs.

The reply made the soldier’s heart flutter, and pride rush through him. He loved that he could be something good, something kind, in Tony’s life. It seemed like most of his life was devoid of kindness. Steve wasn’t particularly familiar with kindness either, but he at least had his mother, and Bucky. He wanted to be good for Tony, to make him happy, in any way he could. He’d never felt like that about anyone, and made sure the brunet knew it.

“I love you,” Steve sighed, wrapping his arms around his partner. He pulled him flush against his chest, tucked the warm blankets even closer around them. The cold was still harsh, but didn’t bother him so much anymore.

“You’re so sweet. I love you too,” Tony replied, feeling himself smile a little despite his fears.

Steve smiled, amused at the way Tony’s words were drawn out. He was obviously getting tired for real now. “Sweet?” he prodded, relaxing against the bed.

The brunet nodded. “Sweet. Like cinnamon.”

Steve liked that.

Tony closed his eyes, suddenly drowsy. Maybe he just needed to let the words go to be able to sleep, like a program operation that had to be executed before the system could shut down. He felt warm and comfy now, with Steve’s big arms keeping him safe, reassured of his love, of his kindness.

He leaned up, found Steve’s lips in the dark, and they kissed softly, lazily, Steve’s fingers brushing over Tony’s cheekbones reverently. Tony wasn’t sure how long they kissed. It left him breathless, like always, left tingles up his spine and his heart beating too fast, despite how familiar it all was by now. It was dreamlike, so kind, so different than the kisses that haunted his past. Tony could hardly feel when it ended. He was sleepy now, truly, and his limbs felt heavy.

Somehow, the cold had finally withdrawn, despite the wind beating at the windows. He could feel himself slipping away, warm and safe like he hardly ever was in the past, but was more often than not since Steve started dating him.

The blond could hear the change in Tony’s breathing, could feel him relax into the sheets. That was good. Maybe they could both finally sleep now. Steve still found himself thinking of the secrets Tony had told him, unwillingly imagined a younger version of Tony, bright eyed and hopeful, and saw that hope being turned sour, betrayed by people who never deserved to so much as be in the same room as him. It made Steve afraid. He was afraid of himself, of hurting Tony, now that he knew all of this. Who knows? Maybe there was even more, more that Tony kept hidden, that would be revealed in time.

Steve was ready to sleep, but found it imperative to say one more thing to his lover.

“I’d never hurt you on purpose,” he said softly, muttered against the brunet’s hair. He placed a kiss on the scientist’s forehead.

“I know,” Tony replied. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! I know it was pretty short. Leave a comment if you wanna talk about it!!


End file.
